


Small Favours

by yuubalu



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 23:01:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuubalu/pseuds/yuubalu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>10 gifts Arthur and Eames have sent each other over the years. It's the little things that mean the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Favours

1.

Arthur eyes the package on his desk suspiciously, as do the co-workers on his current job. He'd batted away their curiosity by saying it was a package from his mom, but he's not sure how well they'd bought into it; it's a terrible lie, regardless. Arthur would know the handwriting on the brown, paper parcel anywhere, and his skin prickles with goosebumps when he realises that there's no postage marks so it must have been delivered by hand. A small slip of paper inside that falls out when he tears the package open reads simply _'I was in the area and decided to return your beautiful timepiece. Please accept the accompanying token of my affections - E.'_ Arthur destroys the note the moment he finishes reading it, disposing of it before glancing down at the items sitting among the torn, brown wrappings.

He recognises his watch immediately, scratched and dented in a way that he's memorised over the years, and wonders why he even left it with Eames in the first place. But then he sets eyes on the pen beside it, and he can't quite stop the excited bite of his lip when he realises it's a Parker. It's black, with a gold trim, classy and eloquent with that tell-tale arrow clip on the cap. Arthur picks it up and runs his fingers along the lacquered barrel, feels the change in texture that indicates an engraving, and turns it over to reveal his name etched into the ebony casing. He bites his lip again, rolls the pen between his fingers a few more times (he won't admit that he practiced holding it), and then slips it into his satchel. If Arthur never carries another pen with him, he tells himself it's purely coincidence.

2.

Eames finds the small, padded package on the doorstop of his London home and can't suppress the grin as he turns it over and sees the return address is in Brooklyn. How old-fashioned of Arthur to provide a return address, even if he knows that Eames knows where his mother lives. He takes his time opening the package, waiting until he's inside and toeing off his shoes before biting at the corners and tearing it open. Arthur's sent a note with his gift, and Eames reads that first, ignoring the brush of silk he'd felt when pulling the piece of paper out of the envelope. Arthur's note is typical; a brief 'thank you' for the return of his watch, but no mention of the pen (Eames hadn't expected anything either, so he's not disappointed), and then a few lines about common courtesy and not breaking and entering other people's workplaces. There's also an anecdote on the reverse of the paper criticising his taste in fashion, which makes more sense when Eames pulls out the nice, chic, silk tie Arthur's sent him. He has to admit, it's a nice tie; a deep, sensual blue that Eames is certain would make any lady compliment how well it makes his eyes stand out. He's sure Arthur didn't send it to him to compliment his eyes, but he smiles at the thought all the same.

The next time Eames sees Arthur, he makes sure to wear the tie, unimpeded by a jacket and matched impeccably with a white and blue pinstripe shirt. If Arthur wants to criticise his taste in ties, Eames is happy to oblige him in his quest to 'improve' them. He pretends to not notice the way Arthur falters when he first notices the tie, and continues to pretend to not notice the small smile that tugs on Arthur's lips with every repeated wear. And whenever a dream level requires formal wear, Eames always knows the tie to go for to match his suits. He never was a tie-person in the first place, so it's no big deal to him if he throws out all the rest of his ties without telling anyone. Besides, it is a _really_ nice tie.

3.

Cobb hands Arthur a surprisingly heavy envelope with a little roll of his eyes, and Arthur knows immediately who it's from. Why Eames can't be normal about the way he sends him mail, he'll never know, but he accepts the envelope without a word and puts it away until he's back in his hotel room and away from judging eyes. There's no note this time, not even any writing on the envelope, so Eames must have given it to Cobb in person. Arthur tips the contents of the envelope onto the bed, pretending not to be excited at the brief flash of silver as they fall onto the duvet. They're small, delicately so, but Arthur knows what they are without even having to take a closer look. Eames has sent him cufflinks.

On closer inspection, they're not just cufflinks. They're pure silver cufflinks, nice and rectangular, but that on its own doesn't make them remarkable. What does are Arthur's initials etched lightly into each perfect rectangle; does Eames think he'll forget his name or something? The cufflinks are cheesy, even if they're clearly expensive, and Arthur can't help but be a little amused by them. The next time he wears a three-piece, he pushes the cufflinks through the holes in his shirt sleeves and admires the touch of professionalism they bring to the ensemble. Arthur knows that the only reason he's even wearing them in the first place is because he doesn't own any other cufflinks, not that he went out and bought a shirt specifically to wear with them. When the cufflinks become a permanent part of his three-piece formal wear, he knows it's just because he's never gotten around to buying another pair, not that he's grown fond of them.

4.

The newspaper-wrapped parcel that arrives in Eames' Mombasa post box tells him that Arthur is spending Christmas at home this year. The few pages of the _Brooklyn Paper_ hold nothing of interest, despite Eames' hopes that there was an encoded message in the articles; Arthur is fond of his games after all. But Eames is pleased with his present regardless, a pair of gaudy, bright, holiday-themed socks, laden with robins and reindeer and an army of snowmen. They're so hideous they're beautiful, and Eames wonders how much it must have pained Arthur to purchase something packed with so much tacky Christmas spirit.

With a grin, Eames rips off the tag and pulls the socks onto his feet, wiggling his toes a little in the soft, fleecy cotton. It's an unusually hot winter in Mombasa, so much so that he spends the next few days in shorts, but he wears the socks all the same, right up until Christmas has passed and it's no longer fashionable to advertise it. The locals are even more amused than usual by the strange British 'tourist', but Eames pays them no mind, continuously amused as he is by the slightest hint of Santa's face poking over the edge of his espadrilles.

5.

Arthur's mom opens the envelope before he can beat her to it. When Arthur finally manages to snag it out of her hands, the postage marks confuse him a little (he'd thought Eames was in Kenya, not New York), but then he sees what's inside; two tickets to the New Year's Eve jazz concert his mom had been wanting to go to for the last five years, but most definitely could never afford, even with Arthur's help (and she refuses to let him pay for anything outright). He won't admit that he forgot how to swallow briefly in unexpected gratitude (it also seems that Eames knows all sorts of unexpected things about him and his mom), and he definitely won't admit that he choked a little when he saw the price of each ticket; since when had concerts become so expensive?

When New Year's Eve rolls around, Arthur is just as excited as his mother for their night out, and manages to forget for a while where the tickets came from. The concert is just what they always expected, and Arthur knows his mom has had the best New Year in a long time; he knows he has, since he'd spent the last few years working over the holiday. Throughout the evening, however, Arthur's mom has that little smile on her face that Arthur knows means she's thinking suspicious thoughts. And when she starts questioning him about that 'nice boy, Eames', he knows he's right. He can only deny to her for so long that he doesn't know why he hasn't brought Eames home yet, until after a while he starts wondering why himself.

6.

Eames is particular about his beverages. He likes his tea, and it has nothing to do with being British (although that certainly doesn't help his case), so working a long term job in the US is always stressful in the drinks department. So when Arthur's next gift arrives, Eames is more than grateful. He can smell the contents of the parcel even as he signs his name and accepts it from the courier, that specific blend of tea that always reminds him of home. He breaks the tape with his fingernails before opening the cardboard box, grinning as he spots the smaller boxes inside; at least half a dozen boxes of good quality Earl Grey, straight from Harrod's. Arthur has a good memory for facts, because Eames can only remember one time he mentioned his favourite tea, and that was only in passing. Nice to know that Arthur still remembers.

For the rest of the current job, Eames drinks nothing but tea in the workplace, relishing in the soft aroma of bergamot that makes him think of summer rain and hazel eyes and slicked back hair. If his co-workers have anything to say about the small smile constantly tugging at his lips as he drinks, they say nothing, and Eames is grateful that they don't because he's not entirely sure what explanation is going to come out of his mouth if they do. It's one thing to say that this particular tea reminds him of home, but Eames knows that not even the most homesick of travellers would look the way he does while he sips his Earl Grey and thinks of caramel and rolled up shirt-sleeves.

7.

Arthur doesn't expect the next gift Eames sends him; the receptionist at his hotel in Kiev calls out to him in broken English, and Arthur barely manages to work out that she's informing him of a delivery. He accepts the chunky package, weighing it in his hands as he climbs the stairs to the second floor (no working elevator in this hotel), and eyes it all throughout the dinner he'd ordered via room service. When Arthur eventually opens the neat, white packaging, there's a rumpled book inside, corners frayed with wear and the spine bent until there's a lattice of white lines decorating the barely visible title. It's a collection of poetry, and clearly one Eames has read often if the furled edge of the pages is anything to go by.

What surprises Arthur the most, as he later wraps himself up in his duvet and begins to read, is that Eames has left little thoughts and anecdotes throughout the book, scrawled little musings in the margins that Arthur is sure that no one but Eames had seen before this. They're not always notes related to the poems; there's a highly amusing and rather derogatory caricature of Cobb next to Noyes' _The Highwayman_ that Arthur can't help but laugh at, until he reads the poem through and spots Eames' note comparing it to Mal and Cobb, and suddenly it doesn't seem so amusing after all. And even though it takes Arthur several months to finish reading (what with Eames' additions doubling the amount of words he has to read, and back-to-back jobs limiting the amount of time he has to do it in), he feels he understands Eames all the better for it. And that's not as scary as Arthur may have thought it would be.

8.

The parcel nearly hits Eames in the face when it arrives; he's in Amsterdam, 'borrowing' an apartment from a 'friend', and Eames admires briefly Arthur's skill in tracking him down before his hangover attacks him with full ferocity and he forces himself to roll off the doormat and into a sitting position. It's a thick package, one he's sure would have given him a black eye had it hit its mark, but it's lighter than it looks once Eames finally brings himself to pick it up and stumble his way towards the kitchen. Over a strong mug of coffee (black, one sugar), Eames opens the wrappings to discover a pristine copy of _Crime and Punishment_ , which he puts aside immediately; nine in the morning and hung-over is not the right time to begin reading Dostoevsky.

There's also a small notebook inside the wrappings, and Eames opens this first, realising with amusement what it is. Of course Arthur would return the favour of a book with a book, but it's also typical that he couldn't bring himself to 'soil' the pages and instead provided accompanying notes on separate paper. It's charming, actually, and it brightens Eames' day enough that he's thoroughly engrossed (though only a few chapters in) by the time his flight leaves Schiphol airport. And if Dostoevsky soon becomes one of Eames' favourite authors, he doesn't mind at all.

9.

Arthur receives Eames' package just as he's leaving his hotel in Tokyo to catch a flight, and he puts it away in his carry-on and forgets about it until the next day. Tired and running on only 4 hours sleep, Arthur fumbles through his satchel in search of painkillers and instead pulls out the padded envelope he'd stowed away earlier. Forgoing pills, Arthur drops back down onto his bed, opening the envelope above his head and catching one of two objects as they fall onto his chest. He discards the empty packaging and squints at the small book in his hands; a Spanish phrase book. A wry chuckle escapes his lips and he reaches blindly for the second part of his gift. Bringing the slip of paper up to his face, he sees that it's a ticket for a midday flight to Barcelona the next day.

So, Eames wants him to join him in Barcelona, does he? The ticket goes straight into the bin, but he keeps the phrasebook. Arthur knows he's not the best at languages, so he accepts Eames' subtle offer of help; to be honest, Arthur admits to himself that he probably needs all the help he can get. He stows the phrasebook back in his satchel before pulling out his laptop and gathering information on his next mark.

10.

Eames lounges in the stiff hotel armchair, flicking through terrible Spanish television. His loose, button-up shirt itches against his sunburn, which he acquired after mistakenly spending a day on the beach with nothing but a vest on his top half. His shoulders are an attractive shade of salmon, but with any luck they'll turn to tan within the next few days. Eames glances at the clock, trying to decide whether to call room service or go out for dinner; his decision is seemingly made for him when he hears a knock. Eames heads lazily for the door, uncaring that he's wearing nothing but his boxers with his shirt, and doesn't bother glancing through the peephole before he opens it. Maybe he should have, so he could have at least prepared himself a little, because whatever he expected on the other side of the door was not what greeted him.

Arthur lounges against the door frame, wearing a pair of skinny jeans that Eames can already see give him a great figure, and a white polo neck that defines Arthur's neck and gives just a teasing hint of collar bone. There are tan loafers on his feet, made of fine suede, and a park of dark aviators cover Arthur's beautiful eyes. Eames is suddenly glad for his loose clothing, because his boxers are already on their way to being tight. They stare at each other in silence for a few moments, before Arthur runs a hand through his un-gelled hair in what Eames knows to be a nervous tick. And then he hands over the bottle he'd been holding at his side, and which Eames had overlooked in favour of taking in the delectable sight before him. Eames accepts the bottle automatically, forcing himself to take his eyes off Arthur and read the label.

"Jack Daniels, darling? You shouldn't have." He grins, and Arthur smiles back at him, and Eames' stomach does a strange little flip that it really shouldn't be doing at his age.

"I was in the area, Mr. Eames, so I thought I'd drop by."

Eames laughs, but then realises that the ticket he sent Arthur wouldn't have gotten him here until a day later. His smile is smaller now, but more full of feeling, and he can visibly see the blush creep onto Arthur's face.

"In the area, indeed, Arthur. Come in, come in. Might as well enjoy your gift together, love."

When the door shuts behind them, Eames puts the bottle of Jack Daniels aside and helps himself to his real present instead.


End file.
